there your heart will be also
by airbefore
Summary: "I'm sure somewhere in this great big city of ours, some poor unfortunate soul has lost their life but today you're going to let the justice seeking be someone else's job. Today, you're going to take a little trip with me." - Scavenger hunt, Castle style. ***co-authored with sparklemouse***
1. Chapter 1

**Co-authored with sparklemouse**

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**Disclaimer: **All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**AN:** This is 90% written so updates will be coming fairly quickly.

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_For __where your treasure is__, __there will your heart be also__._

_Matthew 6:19-24_

Kate can't stop the tiny smile that creeps across her lips as she approaches the building. She tamps it down, pushes the memories to the back of her mind, tries to focus her attention on the task at hand.

_Mr. Castle?_

_Where would you like it?_

_Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight._

She fights the urge to pull out her phone and text him on the elevator ride up to the rooftop bar. He's working today, doing his _actual_ job, and though she wants nothing more than to distract him with a trip down memory lane, she resists. He's weeks behind on his edits and she's certainly not going to give him yet another reason to procrastinate.

The elevator opens and she steps out, eyes quickly flicking over the scene. Ryan and Esposito are standing near the bar, their backs to her, speaking in low tones to a couple of men whom she assumes are the owner and an employee. The hair on her neck prickles as she observes the room, taking in the lack of uniforms and crime scene techs. The only other people in the room, in fact, are the four men standing next to the bar and the corpse laid out on top of it.

"What do we have, guys?"

Ryan turns to her first, his blue eyes shining, notebook open in his hand. "Hey, Beckett," he calls, a little too cheerfully. "Take a look and see for yourself."

Kate moves toward the bar, catches Esposito elbowing Ryan in her peripheral vision.

"Stop smiling so damn much, bro."

"I can't help it. I'm excited."

"Sometimes you disgust me, honey milk."

Tuning them out, she approaches the body, her eyes scanning up and down the bar as her brain tries desperately to process what she's seeing. Rose petals. Sunflowers. A plastic sheen on the victim's skin. What the hell is going on here?

She whips to look at Ryan and Esposito, takes in their defensive postures and shifting eyes. Something is definitely off. Knowing Ryan as the weaker of the two, she zeroes in on him, her eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. "Ryan? You called me with this. Did you fail to notice that the victim is a mannequin?"

"No?"

"So, you saw that there wasn't actually a homicide victim on the premises but decided to call me down here anyway?"

"Look at the body, Beckett," Esposito interjects, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look familiar?"

Kate's not an idiot; of course it looks familiar. It looked familiar the moment she walked into the room and found Alison Tisdale, with rose petals on her body, sunflowers perfectly placed over her eyes like it was nothing more than a dream. Nothing more than falling asleep with one of Castle's books beside her like she so often did after her mother was murdered. It's a déjà vu of memories: the body that led her to Castle, the first place they officially met.

She looks up at the boys. Ryan is grinning like an idiot and Esposito is rolling his eyes at him but looks mildly amused and she really has no idea what's going on except their case load has been light and Castle likes to play and he's probably here somewhere waiting to pull a practical joke except -

Except this feels different somehow.

"Okay, guys, what's going on?"

Ryan extends a white envelope to her, nearly giddy. "We'll see you later, Beckett."

The room is cleared before she can even open her mouth, give birth to the questions gestating in the base of her throat. Kate stares down at the letter, her name scrawled across the front in Castle's slanting handwriting. She sits down at the bar, wonders briefly if this was where he was standing on that night almost six years ago. She looks around for a moment, remembers so perfectly the books that were on the counter telling her so much about Alexis in those first few seconds, the amused look on his face like he was nothing more than a child in a grown man's body. Her lips curve as she slides her finger under the flap of the envelope, pulls out the letter.

_Kate,_

_I can picture the look on your face right now. An amused grin dancing on your lips that you're trying hard to suppress with false mask of consternation and exasperation. Oh, did you just sigh? So maybe the consternation and exasperation aren't entirely false but they're certainly not as real as the delight sparking in your eyes._

_I'm sure you've figured out by now that there wasn't actually a murder. Well, not in the bar at least. I'm sure somewhere in this great big city of ours, some poor unfortunate soul has lost their life but today you're going to let the justice seeking be someone else's job. (Don't roll your eyes, Beckett. We both know you secretly like it when I take charge and tell you what to do.) Today, you're going to take a little trip with me._

_(What kind of trip? You'll figure that out shortly, I'm sure, what with your well above average detecting skills.)_

_Five years, Kate. Five years and hundreds of cases together and still you manage to surprise me on an almost daily basis, a feat which is as amazing as it is annoying (two feelings I'm sure you're quite familiar with as well after dealing with me for this long). Some days I feel like I know you better than I've ever known another person, including myself, and others I feel like I've hardly scratched the surface. I wouldn't change it, though. I love the way you reveal pieces of yourself to me, whether intentional or not. It's a game I've enjoyed immensely over the years; analyzing our conversations and parsing for subtext, for some little nick that will allow me to gain purchase and peel off another layer of the Beckett onion. _

_You made it all the way through the Castle onion (That metaphor is really getting old. And making me hungry.) years ago. Not that there were that many layers to peel. That's not to say that I'm shallow - at least not overly so - but I never put much effort into keeping who I really am from you. I suppose I knew there was little point in that. You saw through me from the start, Kate. Well, okay, maybe not the exact start but shortly thereafter._

_And that's your first stop on this little journey. The place where you looked at me with those beautiful, assessing eyes and discovered that maybe I was more than just a pain in your ass playboy novelist. The place where you realized that above all else, I was a man who loved his daughter._

_(If you need a hint, just remember to look for the nannies.)_

_I love you._

_RC_

Slowly, she reads back over the letter, her eyes tracing over the sloping loops and sharp slashes, picturing the look of sheer delight he must have been wearing when writing it. She closes her eyes, presses it against her chest. She has a feeling she knows where this is going to end today, what this little puzzle of his is all about and there's a part of her that wants to call him, confirm her suspicions. She looks at his words again, letting them settle inside of her, ease the pounding of her heart. No. He has a plan for her and for once she's going to let go and play along. She folds the letter up, slides it back into the envelope.

The park - and his adventure - await.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Fun fact: Jenny can't count. This will be 11 chapters, not 10. Woo?

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She's pulling the keys out of the ignition when her phone buzzes and she slides it out of the console. It's a text from Castle with the exact location of the park and she smiles, snapping a photo of the entrance, the chains of the swings gleaming with morning sunlight.

_Nice memory, Detective. How badly do you wish you knew the plan for today?_

Kate watches the family of four that walks through the gate, listens to the screaming delight of children. It might have been almost five years ago but she can still picture them on that day, the way he spoke about Alexis as if all the women, all the millions, all the success was nothing compared to raising his daughter.

_You're not as smart as you think you are._

His response comes seconds later. _And yet, I still know where you're going next and you don't. _There's a little icon of a yellowed face sticking out his tongue and she rolls her eyes.

_You're incorrigible._

_I like how that rolls off your tongue. Incorrrrrrrrigible._

She smiles. She should get out of the car, find the next piece of his game. She wonders if she's supposed to locate the letter herself under a garbage can or a swing set or knowing him in the stroller of a random child or if someone is there waiting. _Since when do I roll my R's?_ She thinks of that night in bed when she showed him all the ways her tongue could work around consonants and vowels, what it did to him in the days after. _You know what? Don't answer that. I'm going to find my next letter. Love you._

The phone is back in her pocket as she jogs across the street. The park is crowded, the warm spring air bringing out parents and kids, and Kate scans the throng of people looking for something, someone to give her the next letter. She spots the flash of redhair that belongs to his daughter and smiles, making her way across the park.

Alexis looks more like her mother than she does Castle, but right now - sitting alone on a bench with her brow furrowed in concentration as she reads - there is no doubt she is Rick Castle's daughter. Kate sits down in the empty space beside her and the girl looks up, startled, until her entire face transforms. The furrow between her brows smoothes and she smiles, closing the book.

"He was worried you wouldn't remember which park it was."

Kate smiles, recalling the text messages, knows that he must have responded since her last one. She can feel Alexis watching her, the silence between them comfortable. She considers asking for the letter but she waits, content to just sit next to the young woman. She likes this time they share, the moments when Castle isn't around and it's just the two of them.

"Dad took me here all the time when I was younger. When I was five I fell right over there," Alexis says, pointing to the monkey bars. "All these moms around us freaked out, panicked as if I was their child and the blood was some indication I was dying. But Dad didn't freak, at least not in front of me. He did whatever he could to make me laugh on the way to the hospital, but I know he wished he had someone with him, someone to calm him once I was home that night asleep. My mom wouldn't have been that person. She's so dramatic, she would have made it about her. Had Gina been around then she would have tried, but she's a control freak and would have handled it with precision but not emotion." Alexis pulls an envelope from her bag, holding it between her fingers. "You would have calmed him, Kate. That's what you do for him. You made him grow up. He's the most amazing father in the world, but you made him better."

She can feel the burn in her eyes, the tightening of her chest at his daughter's words. "Alexis-"

"For you." She hands over the envelope, standing. "You've made him happier than I've ever seen him, so thank you. I have to head to class but I'll see you later."

Alexis gives one more smile before walking off, leaving Kate alone. The emotion rushes through her andshe slides her finger under the flap, leaning back against the bench. Years from now she wants to remember this day. The two little girls giggling on the swings, their tiny hands clasped tightly together as they move back and forth in perfect unison. The warmth of the breeze against her bare arms. Alexis' speech nestling next to her heart. She stares at the letter, torn between prolonging the moment and needing to know what awaits her in the end.

_The first thing I want to say is simple. It lacks meaning when it's said day in and day out, but I hope you know how much I mean it:_

_Thank you._

_See, five years ago when I started to follow you around I really thought you'd get me kicked out that first day. You hated me so much back then, Beckett. While I was signing my life away to the city of Manhattan, something about not being able to sue if I was shot or killed or stubbed my toe while walking down the street on the NYPD's time, I'm pretty sure you were probably going through every possible scenario in which it would be justifiable to shoot me yourself. You should have seen the looks you gave me, like no one person had ever annoyed and aggravated you so much. (For the record, you still give me those looks sometimes. I love you too, Kate.)_

_Then we came to this park. I was talking about Alexis, about how taking care of her and spending time with her when she was growing up were the best days of my life to that point. You looked at me like I was a totally different person, like I was capable of more. And then I ruined it with some lame joke or crass pun and your face fell back into the mask of barely restrained abhorrence. For about five seconds you saw me as something more and I immediately wanted you to look at me like that again. I wanted to see the utter surprise in your eyes when I did something you'd never expect from me. I wanted to see you smile at a time when you didn't do it as easily as you do now. It didn't happen often at first but every time I mentioned Alexis, I saw it. The way your lips would curve as if you were remembering pieces of your own childhood. You were so beautiful in those moments, Kate; moments when you thought I wasn't looking. But I was. I always was._

_Over time you started to treat me differently. You'd still roll your eyes, you'd still get annoyed, but we became - for lack of a better explanation - us. I found myself going to you for advice about my daughter. It was gradual. I wasn't aware that it was happening until one day I didn't know how to handle a situation with Alexis and you did. You became my partner in every aspect of my life (although it took long enough on the sex. Come on, you were thinking it too.) and I am so grateful for that, Kate. I am so grateful for everything you've given me, from advice about decoding the mysteries of teenage girls to teaching me that there are still people out there who can surprise you in the best possible ways._

_This park was our start. The start of us becoming different people for each other, because of each other._

_Now onto the next place. Corner of Canal and Centre Street._

_Fun, isn't it?_

Kate reads the letter again and then folds it back up, careful to maintain the already existing creases, tucks it gently back into the envelope. She's not a sentimental person by nature - though Castle would argue, loudly, against that self-assessment - but she wants to make certain that every piece of evidence of his love remains intact today. She grips the envelope tightly, presses it to her thigh as she indulges in people watching for just a moment more, committing the scene to memory. Her eyes drift over the park slowly, taking in the gossiping nannies, the gaggles of playing children, the playground equipment shining brightly in the midmorning sun.

Movement from her right catches her attention and she turns, a smile breaking out across her lips. A small brunette boy runs in wide zig zags across the manicured grass, a harassed but laughing man chasing after him. Peals of delighted laughter ring through the air when the man catches his son and pulls the wriggling toddler off the ground, blowing loud raspberries against his little round tummy. The man catches her watching and smiles as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, fingers wrapped securely around his ankles.

Kate watches them move away, the little boy babbling happily, his tiny fingers curling in his father's hair. Sighing softly, Kate stands and heads for her car - her future - the joyous shrieks of laughing children ringing in her ears.


	3. Chapter 3

The corner of Canal and Center Street. She's wracking her brain, somewhat flummoxed by what possible significance this rather ordinary corner might hold in his retelling of their story. They've lived a lot of life together in the past five years and though her memory is long she often finds herself staring at him in utter amazement when he pulls out some random fact or anecdote from years before.

It clicks into place when she sees the stall, its walls lined with designer knockoffs. A man stands just outside the door, his voice loud as he converses with a potential customer, attempting to convince the man that the sunglasses he's trying on make him look like Ryan Gosling. Kate laughs and pulls out her phone, thumbs a text to Castle.

_Let me guess? I'm here to buy Sarah Jessica Parker's bag?_

_No purchase necessary. Look around. You'll find it._

Kate moves to the wall of merchandise, waving off the overeager vendor as she scrutinizes the handbags and tries to think like Castle. She dismisses the flashier ones, aware that he knows that's what she would expect him to choose and therefore he went in the opposite direction. There are quite a few smaller options she's able to rule out on size alone. Narrowing in on the likeliest suspect - a row of identical shoulder bags, mid-sized and relatively plain - she runs her hands over them, ears attuned for the crinkling of an envelope. She stops mid-way through the rack, the purse in her hand significantly heavier than its neighbors. With a mental _aha, _Kate pulls out the battered copy of A Rose for Everafter and finds her next letter tucked inside the front cover.

She snaps a picture of the book with her phone and sends it to Castle before moving away from the smiling vendor and unfolding the crisp paper.

_And here we are: the place where I saved your life for the first time._

_(Okay, not the exact place because I think sending you to a random person's apartment five years after the fact is probably a little creepy. Plus, I don't know if Diana Edwards still lives there but even if she does I doubt she would have been willing to go along with this little plan considering what we did to her apartment. It's the idea that counts.)_

_I've saved your life twelve times now. Yes, I'm still keeping count even though I'd like nothing more than to be able to stop. I'd be happy to stay at twelve for the rest of our lives if it means you're never in mortal peril again. We both know that's not in the cards, though, so just rest assured that I'll be there for the thirteenth. And the thirtieth._

_I know you're doing the mental math right now, adding up how many times you've saved my sorry ass. The official number is eleven. The unofficial number is astronomical. I was more than a little lost when we met, both personally and professionally. Coming off of my second failed marriage and having just slaughtered my golden goose, I was adrift. I had no idea what I was doing, really. Then you showed up with your badge and your sassy little haircut (I love your hair long but that short cut was pretty damn hot) and your absolute refusal to put up with my shit. You inspired me to write, to create. And then, slowly, you inspired me to be a better man. The kind of man you could love._

_You saved me from living a lesser life._

_And you continue to save me, Kate. You keep me sane. You stop me from doing stupid things like following my adult daughter around campus on her first day of college. You pull me out of the line of fire and throw yourself in. You protect my heart like its the most precious thing in the world and I love you for that more than I can possibly say._

_I might have saved your life for the first time in that apartment but you've saved mine in a million different ways since. In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter which one of us has saved the other more. What matters is that we're always there when it counts. Partners._

_(I'm still winning, though.)_

_P.S. - As a fan of my work, you know that I'm usually brilliant when it comes to segues and transitions but I have quite a few more letters to write right now so you'll have to forgive me for being a little lazy. The book in your hand is your clue. See you there._

Tilting her face toward the sky, she blinks, pushes back the tears prickling behind her eyes. She can't cry. Not yet, at least. She steps around the corner when a crowd of tourists brush past her, the constant shouts of men selling purses, perfume, and scarves an annoying buzz in her ear. She presses herself against the building, looks at the book in her hand again and reads the dedication.

_For Kyra Blaine. You make the stars shine._

Kate takes the phone from her bag. _Is this when you tell me that you're dumping me to go back to Kyra?_

_Was this not a good way to tell you?_

She's not sure when it was that they started to joke about past loves, about the things that hurt so much in the moment. She was never jealous of Kyra, not really. Fascinated, maybe; curious. She was everything she thought Castle was against back then: real, honest, beautiful in that girl next door kind of way. And then Kate suddenly knows where she's supposed to go. She looks at her car and walks past, deciding to leave it where it is for now. She has a feeling this little adventure of his is going to be sprawling and she really doesn't feel like having to deal with parking issues all over the city. Her phone buzzes in her hand and she looks at his text message, rolling her eyes.

_You know I'm joking right?_

_Are you? I was going to say it's quite a novel approach to breaking up with someone._

_You just used 'novel approach' with a writer. I fucking love you. Did you figure out where you're going?_

She's about to head into the subway when she hits send on her phone. _Still wondering if I've ever torn a picture of a wedding dress out of a magazine?_


	4. Chapter 4

The lobby of the hotel hasn't changed in the three years since she's been here. The hideous orange upholstered chairs still sit in front of the windows overlooking the bustling city streets, dark wooden tables are still adorned with flowers. The room is nearly empty at this time of morning and Kate looks around, figures the front desk is her best bet.

"Hi, I think someone dropped something off for me here. Kate Beckett."

The young woman, perfectly polished and poised, smiles. "Ah yes, Ms. Beckett." She rummages through a pile on her desk, pulling out an envelope identical to all the others.

Kate smiles in thanks and heads over to one of the chairs. There's no wedding here today, just tourists going in and out of the hotel in search of an adventure and she looks around, recalling the shock of learning just who Kyra was to Castle, the way his eyes seemed sad - even a little lost - in the aftermath of it. It wasn't that she worried about Kyra when they started to date. She knew Castle was over her, but she also wondered if she could ever measure up to what was once the love of his life. It dissipated over time; there were some nights they talked about the past, about mistakes made, if either of them would ever go back. It reassured Kate in more ways than one but being here now -

She unfolds the paper and scans over the letter - another lengthy one - and she wonders about how much time he spent writing these, how long he's been planning this.

_I debated whether or not to leave you a clue in the form of a book I wrote for an ex. I considered a Nikki Heat novel (please remember that in the tally of books I've written for people, you will by far win in the end) but that wouldn't have conveyed the point as to why I chose to add this particular location to the itinerary._

_I once believed Kyra was the love of my life. She loved me for me. Before the books, before the fame, before the money. To her, I would always just be Rick Rodgers, that guy with ruggedly handsome good looks who hit on her freshman year in the campus bookstore, the man she fell in love with. When she left me, I truly believed I was done. I swore to myself I would never get involved with someone like that again. I met Meredith and then Gina and they were both so very different from Kyra that it made me love them. Even when they hurt me, it was never as bad as I knew it could have been._

_And then I met you. You were real, Kate. More real than anyone had ever been with me, including Kyra, and if I'm being honest, you frightened me a little. (Still do, actually. Especially when you give me that look like you know exactly what I'm thinking and are about to make me regret it.) After seeing Kyra again in this hotel, it wasn't her I missed so much as it was being with someone. I missed telling someone about my day at the end of it. I missed talking about all the unimportant things and at the time I don't think I realized that that's what we had started to do with each other. We were in an elevator or maybe on one of the floors and I told you how Kyra and I met. I don't know what I expected from you but it wasn't what I got. Your voice was different, softer somehow, and you told me you didn't think I went for real. It seemed like you changed after that case, after meeting Kyra. You started to trust me more._

_We went to Kyra's wedding together, something I'm still not entirely sure of how it happened. But we went and we had fun (though you denied it vociferously later). I remember how you balked when I pulled you onto the dance floor. You started out so tense, holding your amazing, perfect body as far away from me as you could while still calling it dancing. But, slowly, you drifted closer and, as the tension drained out of your posture and you started to relax, I realized for the first time that I wanted more. It wasn't about trying to sleep with you anymore. It wasn't about Nikki Heat or my novels. It was in this hotel, at the former love of my life's wedding that I realized I had feelings for you. Unorthodox, yes, but very fitting, I think._

_Kyra is a part of my past that I will never regret. She saw me turn from Rick Rodgers into Richard Castle and had enough faith in me to believe I could be anything I wanted, including a world famous novelist. But you, Kate - you're my future. The phrase 'love of my life' now sounds clich_é_, overused, and not at all accurate. You're my best friend, my partner. You yell at me when I'm wrong, kick my ass when it needs kicking, tell me if my writing needs to be tweaked even if editing is my least favorite thing ever (aside from dead bodies falling on me and mummy curses, of course). You're not afraid to stand up to me or for me. You have no reservations about loving me (not anymore, anyway). When I lost Kyra, I moved on. I lived._

_I cannot fathom losing you. Ever._

_Which brings me to our next stop. The first time I thought I lost you. (I hate that there's been more than once. Don't you have any desire to be a sexy bartender at the Old Haunt or something?)_

She lets the letter flutter to her lap, eyes drifting over the lobby. She remembers that night with him. She'd really had no reason to attend the wedding other than Castle's insistence that he needed a date because there was no way he could go to his ex-girlfriend's wedding without one. Her grudging agreement had been partially for show because there was a very real, very deep, part of her that had wanted to go, wanted to sit by his side while he closed the book on his story with Kyra Blaine. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kate gathers her composure and stands, tucking the letter back into its envelope.

She sends him a text as she pushes out of the heavy glass door of the hotel, the sun glinting off the shiny touchscreen.

_I love you. _


	5. Chapter 5

Her phone chimes repeatedly when she exits the subway, the renewed signal pulling in five new texts from Castle, all spaced a few minutes apart.

_So then you're not mad that I sent you to the hotel? That I wrote an entire letter about my ex-girlfriend and ex-wives?_

_I'm not panicking. I'm sure your lack of response is because you're on the subway or have silenced your phone or stopped to get coffee or something and not because you're on the way here to kill me or decided to make a run for it._

_I love you too, by the way. Though I hope that the four letters you have so far have expressed that._

_You know where you're supposed to go next, right?_

_One more thing: Are you in heels? Do you need someone to bring you a change of shoes? I might be making you run around the city on a scavenger hunt but I do care about the well being of your feet._

Kate pulls the keyboard up to answer him but changes her mind after typing in a few words. She wants to hear his voice right now, wants to let it push her along the busy sidewalk, accompany her to the next destination on his list.

The line rings twice before he answers, a little breathless. "Kate?"

"My feet are fine, Castle. Though they do appreciate your concern."

He laughs, relief pouring into her ear. "Good. I know you're used to wearing those god-awful contraptions all day but you don't usually do quite this much walking."

"God-awful contraptions? I don't recall you holding that opinion a few weeks ago when I was wearing those red peep toes."

"Well, to be fair," his voice drops and she feels arousal skitter down her back and gather at the base of her spine, "my enthusiasm in that particular instance was more about the other things you _weren't_ wearing, not what you had on your feet."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I really do love your shoes. They're sexy as hell and you know it. I just don't understand how you can possibly be comfortable skipping around in them for ten hours a day."

"When have I ever skipped anywhere?"

"I've seen you skip for chocolate. And good wine." He pauses and she smiles, knows what's coming. "And sex."

The old woman walking in front of her looks back at the sound of her laugh, bright and boisterous. God-awful heels aside, she feels likes she's walking on air right now, her body light and floating, drifting along on the current of his love.

"So where are you now?"

"About half a block from my old apartment."

"You remembered."

"Of course I did. Who's going to forget the time a deranged serial killer blew up their apartment with a homemade bomb?"

"Not the man who watched it happen, that's for sure." His voice is low, barely audible over the sounds of traffic and pedestrians. "I love you, Kate."

"I know. You wouldn't send just anybody on a wild goose chase all over the city."

"Only you," he chuckles and she's happy to hear the lightness return.

"Okay, I'm here. Where's this one?"

"It's no fun if I tell you."

"Castle -"

"It's tucked into the buzzer panel, spoilsport."

Kate finds the envelope and pries it out of the thin crack he's managed to wedge it into, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear so she can use both hands, being careful not to rip the paper.

"You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I'll call you later?"

"Can't wait."

She pockets her phone and moves off the steps, out of the flow of pedestrians. Resting her back against the brick façade she unsticks the flap of the envelope and tugs out the paper, anxious to see what this one contains.

_I love writing. It's in my blood. It's something I have to do in order to feel like a whole person. I don't know what I would have done with my life had I never discovered the joy that writing brings. Without it, I'm just not me._

_The only time I've ever wished for that unknown, alternate life was when I stood on the corner across from where you are now and watched your apartment light up the night sky. I don't know that I can properly express the amount of sheer terror and guilt I felt as I ran up the stairs to your apartment, desperately praying to any deity that I thought would listen to just let you be alive. I was more than half in love with you and it was my words that thrust you onto the radar of a lunatic. You were in danger because of me. I don't know that I'll ever be able to fully forgive myself for that._

_According to Jordan Shaw, breaking down the door to that apartment was one the dumbest things I've ever done. I had no idea what was on the other side of that slab of singed wood. I didn't care, though. All I knew was that you were in there and I had to find you. Had to put an end to my own horrible Schrödinger experiment, find out whether you were alive or dead because living in the unknown was ripping me apart. Finding your lifeless body would have finished the job._

_The relief I felt when you crawled out of that bathtub, battered and bruised (and naked) but alive, is indescribable. I could breathe again, sooty air notwithstanding. I wanted to wrap you up in my coat and take you home with me, never let you out of my sight again. Only two other people in this world can inspire that in me and I am so very grateful to have the love of all three of you._

_(By the way, every home we ever share together will have a cast iron bathtub. No exceptions.)_

_We've had so many close calls, Kate. Snipers, dirty bombs, tigers, dips in the Hudson, locked freezers, serial killers. When will we have met our quota for life or death situations? We have to be getting close. But until we do, we'll face it all together. Because as cheesy and clich__é__ as it is, I truly do believe that I can face anything as long as you're by my side._

_(Just try to stop pissing off the psychos, okay?)_

_Now if my timeline is at all accurate, it's nearing lunch and you must be famished from all your running around. You know where to go for food. Tell Ana I want my lucky pen back (yes it is lucky. Stop trying to prove otherwise, Beckett)._

__The smile on her face is wide as she finishes the letter and folds it up, sliding it back into the envelope. She steps away from the building into the blinding afternoon light, glancing up at what was once her window. The building has been restored, updated, and the memories that  
hit her are from a lifetime ago. The way his jacket had felt on her bare skin, smelling like soot and loss with the faint hint of him. The night she spent up in his guest room, staring at the wall as the city lights played across the gorgeous, expensive furniture. She had awakened after only hours of sleep, crept down the stairs and started breakfast like she belonged there.

Even then he had wanted so fiercely to protect her, to give her all the things she wasn't ready to admit she wanted from him yet: warmth and strength and safety. A home.


	6. Chapter 6

The smell of bacon and grease greets her the moment she walks into Remy's.

It's just past noon, the restaurant filled nearly to capacity. She glances back at their usual table, almost expects to see him sitting there, blue eyes dancing with amusement, letter in hand. There's a surge of disappointment at the group of college kids gathered at the table, food laid out in front of them, textbooks pushed to the side. She hadn't called or texted Castle on her way here and it's _ridiculous_ that she can miss him when she saw him only hours ago, hair mussed, fingers already flying over the keyboard.

"Kate!" She turns to the counter, finds their regular waitress placing a plate of fries and strawberry milkshake in front of an empty stool near the window. "Writer Boy stopped by and told me I had to feed you at exactly noon so you didn't starve to death during his scavenger hunt." The twenty year old grins, pushing loose strands of black hair from her face. "Also said that if you finish this entire plate of fries you can never steal half of his again."

Kate grins, lifting an eyebrow. "He managed to deliver so many messages to you but somehow forgot to tell you he wants his lucky pen back."

"It's not lucky!"

"I know."

"He's like a nine year old sometimes." Ana signals to a table that she'll be right there, pulling an envelope from the depths of her apron. "Also asked me to deliver this to you. Even when he's a child he's still incredibly charming, isn't he?"

"You have no idea."

"If you need anything, let me know." She watches Ana walk off and then pours a lake of ketchup onto her plate. The letter rests in front of her and she takes it, bypassing the greasy fries in favor of the milkshake, the sweet confection slowly slithering through the straw.

_It's lunch on a weekday which means there's no way you're getting our usual table at Remy's. Perhaps a family is sitting there right now or a couple of friends who are falling in love without realizing it. Isn't that what happened with us, Beckett? One day we were coming here to eat as friends and then suddenly it was more, though it took us both way too long to admit it. You revealed so much of yourself to me here. That first night over strawberry and chocolate milkshakes you told me it had been a while since you had been out on a date. I never understood that. I've never understood how someone like you - someone with your personality, wit, charm, and yes, your incredibly sexy good looks - was ever single._

_I don't know if you recall, but it was awkward that first night. I don't think we'd ever really been out together like that and for the first twenty-five minutes it was uncomfortable small talk and stretches of strained silence. And then you opened that tiny window and we were us again. We debated, argued, laughed, and by the end of the night all I knew was that I wanted to keep coming back. So we did. Lunches, dinners, midnight snacks after long cases that ended too late for anything else. We'd stay until the sun started to rise, pretending like we didn't realize that the entire night had passed us by._

_It was in that booth in the back that you told me about surprise weekend adventures with your mom, fights with your dad, the fact that as much as you loved being the center of your parents' attention you still always wanted a younger sibling to take care of. I learned so much about you here. Everything you did during work, all those little quirks that are so indescribably you are what attracted me to you, made me want to know more. But here? In that booth? With Ana pestering us about why we weren't together and brain freeze from the milkshakes you never can resist - this is where I fell irrevocably in love with you. Plotting ideas on the backs of paper menus and napkins, our favorite memories of growing up in the city, meandering conversations that always led somehow to the topic of sex. The night you "casually" made mention of the Kama Sutra as if it was normal dinner conversation, I knew I was done. You were it._

_(And for the record, we have not explored nearly enough of that sacred text in the time we've been together. We need to correct that. Soon.)_

_The night after we got together we came back here. The look on Ana's face when you slid into my side of the booth and kissed me was priceless. She squealed in a way only a young adult can and spent the rest of the night stealing glances at us like we'd vanish if she stopped checking. Every time we come here together, I'm reminded of how far we've come and how much we still have to look forward to._

_Now eat your fries, drink your milkshake and head off to the next stop. Oh, and pick me up a copy of the Kama Sutra while you're there, okay?_

__She's half a plate down on fries and she grabs her phone, texting him a picture. _Only wanted half, see?_

_I can see that. I can also see that the shake is gone. Still surprises me how fast you suck those down. _She waits for it and seconds later another text fills her inbox. _That reads dirtier than I intended. Never going to find the word suck normal again, am I?_

_Not after the Kama Sutra, no. Oh and Castle? You and me, page 27. This weekend._

_Why is there not a copy of the Kama Sutra in this apartment?! What's on page 27?! Should I meet you at the next stop, maybe do a little test run?_

The smile flits across her lips again. _I don't think there is anything in that "sacred text" that is suitable for public, Castle._

Kate asks for the check, shakes her head when Ana tells her than Castle already took care of it. Of course he did. She scoops up the letter, double checks the address scribbled along the bottom, and heads for the door. Her phone chimes as she steps onto the sidewalk, slips her sunglasses down over her eyes.

_Challenge accepted._


	7. Chapter 7

The swing set is empty, the hard plastic seats curved into lonely smiles, swaying gently in the light breeze. Kate smiles and crosses the street, hair rustling around her shoulders as she jogs slowly toward the playground. The metal links clink lightly against one another when she sits and pulls her bag into her lap.

Wrapping her fingers tightly around the chains, she pushes off hard with her feet, swings her body over the ground in a wide arc. The wind buffets her face and she can smell the oncoming summer, can feel it in the way the midday sun bakes her skin, pulls it tightly over her working muscles. The swings were always her favorite as a kid; the feeling of complete freedom, the tiny moments of weightlessness at the apex of each arc. She'd take her time, build up height and speed, pumping her legs and arms with as much force as her little body could muster. Then, at the perfect moment, she would launch. Throw herself out into the sky and fly.

"Don't you even _think_ about doing it, Kate Beckett. I am not in the mood for a trip to the emergency room today."

Her eyes fly open and she slows, drags her heels messily across the sandy grass. Lanie leans against the angled support of the swing set, a knowing smirk quirked across her lips.

"I wasn't going to," Kate huffs, pushing herself out of the seat.

Lanie hums disbelievingly and when she unfolds her arms Kate sees the envelope clasped in her hand. "You do know you're supposed to be over there," her friend hooks a thumb over her shoulder at the bookstore across the street, "not over here reliving your childhood, right?"

"I know. I was just -" She falters, unsure of exactly why she'd taken the detour. "I love swings." She shrugs, wraps her hand around the thick metal pole. "Always have. And these are special. Castle -"

"Is the reason I'm here," Lanie interjects, waving the envelope. Kate reaches for it but Lanie pulls back, head shaking. "Not yet. First, we're going to go over to that bookstore to get a cup of coffee."

They cross back over the street and head into the store, Lanie leading the way. She orders an iced latte for herself and then asks for Kate's usual as well. Off the questioning look Kate gives her, Lanie explains, "All part of the plan. He made me memorize your coffee order."

"Why?"

"Because he's Castle," Lanie responds, and they laugh, moving down the counter to wait for their drinks.

Lanie makes small talk with the barista while they wait and Kate takes a moment to look around, remembering the only other time she'd been to this store. _You can make it out to Kate. _The way his eyes had flashed with hurt before turning cold still haunts her, makes her scars itch and pull with guilt. The letter clutched in Lanie's hand catches her attention and she eyes it warily, no longer quite so eager to read this one.

They take their drinks outside and sit at one of the tiny cafe tables, the sealed envelope a silent third member of their party. Kate sips her coffee, waits for Lanie to take the lead. Her friend looks her over, eyes assessing, fingers toying with the straw sticking out of her drink.

"So, by the petrified look you're sporting, I'm assuming you've figured out what's in the letter."

Kate looks up, eyes wide. "You've read it?" Her heart sinks a little at the thought, the idea that he shared his words for her with someone else.

Lanie shakes her head and the fist around her stomach releases. "No. He gave me a vague idea when he asked me to be the one to deliver it to you but he didn't offer to let me read it and I didn't ask. This," she puts a finger on the envelope and slides it across the table toward Kate, "is for you and you alone."

She picks up the envelope and turns it over. She knows it's her imagination assigning a physical value to the emotional content but it feels heavier than the others, the weight of it making her palms clammy. Gently, she pulls the flap, the glue sticky against her fingers.

"You know when I knew for certain that Castle was in love with you?" Kate startles at the sound of Lanie's voice and the envelope tears in her jerking fingers. She checks to make sure the letter is undamaged and then looks at her friend, nods for her to continue. "It was when you came back. When he came back _with_ you. After being shut out of your life for three full months, he still came back when you asked. That's when I knew."

"Took you that long to figure it out?" She tries to make her voice light, turn it into a joke, but the words are thick and heavy on her tongue.

"I knew he loved you long before that," Lanie says, an almost sad smile tugging on her lips. "Probably before he even did. But when he came back after -" She pauses, lets out a small sigh. Kate takes a sip of her coffee and tenses her back, tries to prepare herself. "Kate, I was with the two of you in the ambulance that day. Granted, most of my attention was focused on trying to keep you alive but I saw him. He refused to stop touching you. He tried to hold your hand but it was impossible with everything we were doing so he wrapped his fingers around your ankle instead and held on all the way to the hospital."

Lanie twirls her drink, the melting ice rattling against the sides of the plastic cup. "He was in hell, Kate. For three months. It was - It was bad." Kate nods, her eyes burning. She and Castle had talked about those months only once, late one winter night, wrapped up together in his bed. They'd whispered their confessions into the cold December air, paid their penance in soft touches and fierce kisses. Morning broke and they moved forward, lighter and stronger. Together.

"It was hard on all of us, of course," she continues, eyes locked to Kate's, "not knowing how you were, how your recovery was going. But it was definitely worse for him. Especially once Gates kicked him out of the precinct. It was really his only remaining connection to you and once it was gone, I wasn't sure we'd ever see him again. But then you came back and he followed. After everything, Kate, he _followed_. If that's not a man in love then I don't know what is."

Kate gives her a weak smile. "I was in love with him too, you know."

Lanie's laugh is loud and barking. The only other patron on the patio looks over at them disapprovingly and Kate waves an apology. "I knew _that _when you intentionally lost the bet on that counterfeiting case."

"How did you -" It clicks. "Espo."

Lanie just smiles at her and picks up her drink, taking a long sip. The tension eases and Kate picks up the envelope again, runs her thumb over the edge. Gently, she tugs the paper out, pausing to suck in a deep breath before she opens it.

"Do you want me to go?"

Without looking up, Kate shakes her head and unfolds the letter.

_I've seen you in so many ways now, Kate - half-asleep, wearing only that black t-shirt you stole from me. Spread out underneath me, naked and wanting. Walking down a red carpet in a designer gown, making every other woman instantly invisible. Kicking ass and taking names in your high-heeled boots, gun and badge on your hip -but I don't think you've ever looked more gorgeous than you did the day you came to find me in this bookstore. Standing tall in that leather jacket, your hair down and curled. You were beautiful. Perfect. Alive._

_I was so angry with you. Angry that you sent me away. Angry that you didn't call. Angry that you were there in front of me, ripping the scab off a barely healing wound. I wanted to walk away, to hurt you the way you had hurt me. But no matter how I tried I just couldn't get you out of my system. I sat on those swings and listened to you talk about walls and the kind of relationship you wanted to have and I knew that I would follow you anywhere, do anything in order to have the chance to be the man that got to scale that wall, have that relationship. I was still angry but the love was stronger._

_I wondered for a long time if you ever would have come to me had it not been for the files I had. I still can't say for certain that I know the answer to that question. But what I do know is that it doesn't matter. The reasons why you came aren't the point. What matters is that you did and we managed to get through it. We put in the work, as you say, and got to a place that had only ever been a dream before._

_I used to read fairy tales to Alexis, fantastical stories about magic and the power of true love. I occasionally wondered if I was being a bad parent, giving her unrealistic expectations of what love is because even perfect matches break up and love does not always conquer all. She would get so frustrated with me when I tried to change the story; she'd put her hands on her little hips and sigh, rolling those big blue eyes. "Tell it the right way, Daddy." I always gave in and changed it back, gave her the happy ending she wanted. Because believing in happy endings and true love and magic, I realized, is not just the providence of children. Belief in the possibility is what keeps us going, what makes the hard times bearable. It's how we overcome. Happily ever after might exist only in fairy tales but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try._

_We've already accomplished so much, Kate. We've slayed dragons and fought ogres, saved the kingdom a hundred times over. We demolished a wall and built a palace from the remains. My armor may not be shining but my love for you is most certainly true._

_Our tale has barely begun and I cannot wait to see what adventures the next chapter brings. How about you?_

Kate wipes at the tear sliding down her cheek and looks up at Lanie, gives her a watery smile.

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah," she sighs, putting the letter into her bag with the others. "He's really outdoing himself with this."

"He loves you."

"I know."

Lanie pushes back from the table and stands, tossing her empty cup in a nearby trashcan. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, holds it out for Kate. "He wanted me to give you this too. I'm sure there's some kind of Castle-y logic behind it."

Kate takes the paper and unfolds it. It's a blank deposit slip, the logo for New Amsterdam Bank and Trust printed boldly in the top left corner. "It's my next clue," she says, slipping the paper into her own pocket.

"I have to be honest, I'm a little surprised that you're going along with all of this so easily. I really expected more of a fight."

Grinning, Kate stands up and extends her arms to her friend, pulls her into a hug. "I learned a long time ago that with Castle it's sometimes easier to just let him get the crazy out of his system. Plus," she adds, stepping back, "it's fun. Thank you." She catches Lanie's eye. "For everything."

"What are best friends for?" Lanie grins as they make their way back through the bookstore. "Just one thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"I get to pick out my _own_ bridesmaid dress."


	8. Chapter 8

The angle of the sun blinds her as she turns the corner, the bank nothing more than shadows.

Kate walks at a steady pace down the street, her throat drying out as the building comes into view. It looks the same even after everything; four deep steps surrounding the area that lead into the bank, potted plants to welcome old customers who were willing to come back and new ones who never knew of what happened there in the first place. Her heart clenches and she has to stop, nearly colliding with a couple holding hands. She mutters an apology and steps back against the building, a bird's eye view on another near miss, another explosion.

It's been almost two years and she can still recall the sound of the explosion, the way her body never stopped shaking even after the van ceased rocking underneath her, the sinking feeling in her stomach that she had lost him for good. She closes her eyes, the world spinning like it did that afternoon and this is ridiculous because he's _fine_, she knows he's fine. She grabs her phone from her pocket, opens up his name in her text messages. Her fingers hover over the keys until she's typing, hitting send.

_I wish you were here._

Sure, it's vulnerable and a little unlike her, but he'll keep her steady.

_I had a feeling this one would be hard. You okay? If you need me to come meet you, I will._

The offer alone calms her, eases the pressure in her chest. _I'm okay. So what's my mission here? Take out a loan? Ask for a thousand dollars in singles, then quarters followed by nickels?_

She watches the traffic along the area, arms wrapped around her waist to ward off the effects of the dropping temperature. She hasn't looked at the time in hours, not when she's exploring their city in a way she's never experienced before. They're places she's been to, of course, some places she still goes to often, but it's different seeing it through his eyes, living their entire story together in city blocks and nearly forgotten locations. Her phone buzzes and she misses him, does wish he was here to experience this incredibly ridiculous and fun game.

_A thousand in nickels? Oh my god, Beckett! Why didn't I think of that? Look how much good I've done for you over the years. Unfortunately that is not what you'll be doing today. (I am so adding that into my next book though.) I have someone there waiting for you. Before you ask, no, it's not Captain Peterson and his sunny disposition._

_Too bad. I think I made quite the impression on him. Okay, I'm off to see what you have in store. You realize you've sent me to all these locations and we still haven't hit a point in this timeline where we're dating. Is this a multi-day adventure or am I actually going to see you tonight?_

_Oh you'll see me. My lips are sealed on the rest._

The rest.

She can't help but recall Lanie's words at the bookstore about picking out her own bridesmaid dress and any anxiety that lingered in coming here has dissipated because she wants this. She wants to marry him for every reason he's listed today, for all the ones he's left out. She wants to marry him for each heartfelt letter, each joking text, each person he's sent along to a location because he loves her that much. He's turned her into a sap and she'll gladly take it because he also taught her to let go of the past while still relishing the good memories.

Kate breathes in deep, preparing herself to cross the street and walk through those terrible memories, when she feels a hand on her arm. She turns around and finds his mother, dressed in exotic colors, gold and teal bracelets on her wrist, a matching necklace crowding her neck.

"Kate," Martha says warmly, wrapping her in a hug.

The scent of Martha's perfume is overpowering yet comforting and Kate wishes her own mother was here to celebrate in this, wishes she could somehow be a part of everything Castle is giving her. "Hey, Martha."

"It figures my son would send me to the location where I have an ex-lover just inside."

Kate smiles with a small shake of her head. "Or perhaps because of the hostage negotiation?"

"Oh yes, there's that. Knowing Richard, though, the torture lies more in the former category. Take a walk with me, kiddo?"

"Of course."

They walk in an easy rhythm, heels clicking across the concrete sidewalk. The silence envelopes them, supported by the sounds of Manhattan, lined with the words that don't need to be spoken between them.

"I was worried about him before he met you," Martha finally admits after a few minutes. Kate turns her head slightly to look at the older woman, but she's focused on the view up ahead, the way the street curves around into another. "I know he would have been fine eventually. Richard has an uncanny ability for taking the hardships of his life - however small they may be - and using it to his advantage. He would have written another character, he would have gotten over the fact that he'd let another marriage end in divorce, but he wouldn't be the man he is right now if it wasn't for you, Kate."

"Martha, I-"

She places her hand on Kate's shoulder, warm and motherly, and leads her over to the ledge of a building to take a seat. "I wasn't always the best mother, at least not the kind my son deserved for many years of his life. I loved him, of course, but he was left to his own devices more often than not, sent away to school because I believed it was best for him. I think the only reason he let me move in when he did was because Alexis needed someone and I was the only option left." Martha pushes a piece of hair from her face, the bracelets rattling. "After he met you, I wasn't all that delighted with the fact that he thought he was a cop. I know my son. I know the trouble he can get into. The entire first year he followed you around I thought every phone call was news that he'd been shot."

"My dad told me the same thing," Kate answers with a small smile.

"Yes, we've discussed that. We both realized however that children are going to do what they want no matter what their parents say. Richard was a lot like me in his wild ways. Parties, late nights. You calmed him, darling. Even if it didn't always seem like that, even if he still has his crazy theories and adventures like this one, he stepped up and became the man I think he always wanted to be." She rests her hand on Kate's leg. "He saved us in that bank. I worried about some of his foolish decisions at the time, but he knew what he was doing. He knew that if he gave you a clue, you'd understand it and follow."

Martha pulls a letter out of her oversized bag, the same familiar, crisp white like all of the others. "You, my dear, are everything I ever could have wanted for my boy."

Kate bites down on her lip, feels the rush of tears building in her chest, behind her eyes. She laughs when she tastes the salt on the tip of her tongue because this entire day has been almost too much; one day meant to remember and celebrate five years with him, relive one stimulating, nearly perfect adventure after another.

"Martha-" Kate pauses, squeezing Martha's hand. "Thank you. I-"

"I know, darling." She hands over the letter, running her hand over Kate's hair. It's more maternal than she expected and she's not sure how much more of this she can handle and yet at the same time wants this day to last forever. "I will leave you in peace to read it." His mother hugs her, gentle and soothing. "I just want you to know that, as a mother, I am so proud to be gaining you as a daughter."

The words settle inside of her long after Martha has gone. The sun warms her arms, chest rising and falling as she repeats Martha's words over and over in her mind. _Daughter. Mother. _Words that haven't been next to each other in so long when it wasn't about murder or alleys or mysteries. She looks down at the envelope and pulls out the letter, another chapter in the story of their life together.

_I'm not a fan of exposition if it can be helped; it bogs down a story, takes away from what a writer really wants to say. I've been known to go on and on but I like to think that everything I say has a purpose. Added words take away from the magic of the story, the depth of the meaning. I remember everything about that day in the bank, Beckett. How aggravated I was to be there in the first place, how surprised I was at how much I missed you. I remember the laugh in your voice when I said we were about to be robbed, the moment of silence when you realized it was in fact true._

_I could write an entire novel about that robbery if I had to but all I really care to remember about that day is you. The way you held my hand when you came in dressed as a paramedic with this look in your eyes that was so pure and honest, full of promises you didn't yet have the courage to speak. The sound of your voice as you called out to me after the explosion, strained and raw and desperate with the hope that I was still alive. How you rushed into that room, knelt down in front of me and smiled._

_That was when I knew you were in love with me, Kate._

_Everything that came before (and even the things that came after) was inconsequential compared to that moment. I was certain nothing ever would mean as much to me as the love in your eyes that day. At least not until you showed up at what eventually became our front door, soaking wet, gorgeous, and willing to give us a chance._

_I love our history. I love that even when I annoyed the hell out of you, you gave me the chance to prove myself again and again. You never truly gave up on me and for that I will be forever grateful._

_And now we've reached the end of singledom in our adventure; let's move on to the year in which we've been together. I could have sent you to a lot of places that have been important to us or have played an integral role in our story over the past twelve months but one in particular is calling to me. The place where after four years you finally did the thing you'd been threatening to do since the day we met._

_You shot me._


	9. Chapter 9

The soft pop of air guns and laugh filled war cries fill her ears as she pushes through the tinted glass door, a smile breaking out across her face. The young kid behind the counter recognizes her and gives a quick nod before turning back to the group of teenagers gathered in a semicircle around the desk, their attention focused more on the equipment in their hands than the safety speech they're receiving. Kate moves to the side of the room, her back pressed to wall while she waits.

The kid, Aaron, wraps ups his speech and sends the players off to the locker room, turning to her with a lopsided grin. "Hey, Detective Beckett. You wanna walk on? That last group is uneven so I'm sure they'd be happy to squeeze you in." He leans toward her, voice dropped dramatically. "Especially once I tell them you're a cop. They'd eat that shit up."

Kate laughs and shakes her head. "Not today, Aaron. We both know Castle would never stop pouting if I played without him."

"Though he'd probably enjoy you kicking someone else's ass for a change. What's the running tally now? Like, eighteen to two?"

"Seventeen to three. He cheated last time."

"And you let him get away with it? I'm shocked, Detective."

"It was his birthday," she shrugs casually, hands lifted up. Aaron snorts loudly, his camouflage name badge shaking. "I was feeling generous."

A door opens to her right and a group of paint splattered men come pouring out, whooping laughter and trash talk echoing around the lobby. Kate can't help the giant smile pulling on her lips, the always infectious joy of this place amplified by the emotions of the day. It swirls in her chest, filling her lungs and pushing against her heart. She wants to run after them and join in, let the adrenaline crash through her veins, pushing her into a euphoric bliss. Aaron taps on her shoulder and she turns back to see him holding a face mask and paintball gun.

"Sure you don't wanna play? You've got that look in your eye."

"No, I'm sure."

"Bummer. You know how we all like to watch you slaughter unsuspecting victims." Aaron drops the gear and bends down behind the counter, coming back up with an envelope tucked between two fingers. Kate laughs when she sees the drips of paint on the front, wonders if Castle artfully arranged them himself or they're just a happy accident of the location. "Guess you'll be wanting this then."

Grinning, Kate plucks the letter out of his hand, her thumb smearing across a splotch of green paint not yet dry. "Thanks." She turns away, then spins back, an idea springing to life in her mind. What better way to celebrate an engagement than with a round or two of paintball? "Do you have any spaces open this weekend?"

"Mr. Castle already has a reservation for you guys for Sunday afternoon."

Oh, she loves him.

"Of course he does. We'll see you then?"

"Like I'd miss the chance to watch you humiliate him. I'll be here."

The phone rings and Aaron picks it up, tossing a wave in her direction. Kate raises her hand in response and pushes back out through the door, the cool early evening air sweet in her throat. She finds a bench a few yards down the sidewalk and takes a seat, pulling the letter out. Her green paint thumbprint stains the back of the paper and she pauses, traces her index finger around the edge. She feels silly but the print makes her feel like the letter is theirs, visibly marked by both of them. Her imprint on his words, the basis of their relationship. Sighing at her own romanticism, Kate unfolds the paper, starts to read.

_First thing's first: I didn't cheat. It's not my fault you underestimated my ability to be stealthy. You should know better by now, Beckett. I'm always going to surprise you._

_The surprise goes both ways, of course. I was an idiot before we got together. I thought I knew you. I thought that after four plus years of observation I had a handle on who Kate Beckett is, on what makes you tick._

_I had barely even scratched the surface._

_I knew your dedication to the job. Your desire to right the wrongs of the world, to see justice served. I knew your sometimes scary intelligence, how your brain makes leaps that seem illogical and insane even to me. I knew your drive. Your stubbornness and your determination. Your seemingly bottomless supplies of strength and loyalty. Your unwavering faith in the people you love._

_I had no idea, though, about so many other things. The way you throw yourself wholeheartedly into the pursuit of pleasure, whether it be carnal or something a little more tame. Your endless patience with my mother and daughter. Your sense of adventure and how you're always willing to go along with my ideas, no matter how crazy they seem to others. (I still can't believe you agreed to let me reenact that running through the woods scene from Twilight. I also still can't believe you agreed to watch Twilight.) That sense of adventure has led us to leave our mark on quite a few New York landmarks over the last year (and I'm not just talking about the ones in which we've had sex) but this place, unglamorous though it may be, has to be my favorite. This is where I discovered that my inner child has a playmate._

_I often think about the first time we came here. You were so amped up. I'd never seen you like that before, your whole body practically vibrating with anticipation. I wanted to bottle that feeling up and save it for later because I had no idea if I would ever see you like that again. I was so stupidly in love with you in that moment, watching you strap on the plastic chest protector while you bounced up and down on the balls of your feet, just itching to get out there and start shooting. You were so damn cute and I remember feeling it bubble up in my chest, the need to tell you. You looked at me, your lips curled in that sexy little smile that you get right before you say something biting, your eyes shining with untethered joy; I will never forget that face. Or the words that followed._

"_Don't try to butter me up. I love you, Castle, but that's not going to stop me from kicking your ass."_

_That was the first time you'd ever said you loved me and I don't think you even realized it. It just flowed off your tongue like you'd been saying it every day for years. I suppose, in a way, you had but hearing the actual words - I was dumbstruck. I just stood there while you pulled on your face mask and then sauntered away, paintball gun bouncing against your leg. You did kick my ass that day but I didn't care because you loved me and that was sweeter than any victory could ever be._

_And now it's time to wrap up this little journey with one final stop. I'm sure you're famished from all this running around you've been doing so why don't you stop for some dinner? Tell your dad I say hi._

Kate folds up the letter and pushes it into her bag, taking a moment to reflect on the contents. Was that really the first time she told him she loves him? She could have sworn she'd said the words before that day. Part of her wants to be angry at herself for tossing something so important off so casually but she also feels relief that the memory is a happy one, something they can both reflect on without getting mired in the drama and pain of their early years.

The paint on her thumb is starting to flake and she picks at it as she stands and makes her way down the block, leaving bits of her happiness scattered along the sidewalk in her wake.

* * *

**We're nearing the end and just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for their amazing support of this story. All the comments and favorites and follows have been so deeply appreciated. The final two chapters will be up this weekend. Thank you all so much. **


	10. Chapter 10

The waitress at the counter greets her with an easy smile as she steps into the half empty diner, her body buzzing with anticipation. She spots her dad at the back of the room, ensconced in their regular booth, a crossword puzzle spread out next to his cup of coffee. The diner has evolved over the years, in meaning if not decor. It used to be nothing more than neutral ground, a place where they could meet once a week in an effort to rebuild their shaky relationship without the ghost of a wife and mother lost or the memories of too many nights spent in the putrid stench of grief and whiskey filling in the spaces between their awkward attempts at conversation. Now, though, it's where they come to catch up, to laugh and talk and fill each other in on the details of their lives. It's where she saw the light come back into her father's eyes and where he saw her finally submit to happiness.

Jim looks up when she approaches, bifocals perched on the end of his sloping nose. The creases around his eyes deepen as he smiles at her and she finds herself wondering when exactly it was that her dad got old.

"Hey, Dad," she says as he slides out of the booth and pulls her into a tight hug.

Clapping her lightly on the back, Jim pulls away and nudges her toward the opposite side of the booth before sitting back down and dropping his glasses on top of the discarded crossword. "So," he starts, a twinkle in his eye, "how was your day? Anything interesting happen?"

Kate shakes her head at him. "Funny." There's a piece of apple pie sitting on a saucer next to his coffee cup and she grabs the fork and takes a bite, the combination of fruit and cinnamon a familiar sweetness on her tongue. She loves the apple pie here. "How long have you know about this?"

"A couple of months." Jim grins around his the rim of his mug. "Though I'm pretty sure he's been planning it since the moment you agreed to date him."

"Probably." The fork clatters against the plate and she can't help the giggle that floats up inside her chest. "He's crazy."

"Just about you," her dad says, a knowing chuckle in his voice. "I'm honestly impressed that he's managed to wait this long. Patience doesn't really strike me as one of Rick's strong suits."

"You'd be surprised," she murmurs, warmth in her voice. He's waited so long for her, in one way or another, over the years and as much as she loves her father she wants nothing more than to read the final letter and run home to him, put an end to all the waiting.

"When he told me about this plan, I was a little worried," Jim confesses. Kate cocks her head to the side, a question buried in the furrow between her brows. "Oh, not about him or what your answer would be." He waves a hand at her. "I've known for a couple of years now that you'd end up marrying him eventually. I was worried about the method, not the question."

"Why?"

Jim pauses, fingers toying with the handle of the coffee cup in the way that she knows means he's gathering his thoughts. "You've spent so much of your adult life trapped in the past, Kate. For a long time, I was worried that you'd spend the_ rest_ of your life there. But then you met Rick and I watched you slowly pull yourself into the present, watched the weight fall off your shoulders. I was worried that if you went back - that you'd stay there."

"What changed your mind?"

"Rick," Jim chuckles, the somberness leaking back out of his voice. "He gave me quite a dressing down, actually. Told me that I should have more faith in you, should know you better than that." Jim shakes his head, a wry grin on his lips. "I sat right here in this booth and listened to him talk about you with so much passion and certainty and I realized that I had nothing to worry about. He knows you better than I ever have. Which is the way it should be, I suppose."

Jim shifts the crossword puzzle, pulling an envelope out from underneath. It's smaller than the others, pink instead of white. Kate stares at it, her mouth suddenly dry. She can see her name written across the front in soft cursive letters, the tail of the e curling up into a lazy loop. Her heart stumbles. She knows that handwriting better than her own from years of reading it in birthday cards and silly little notes tucked into her lunch box. From to-do lists stuck to the front of the refrigerator and the weekly letters she received when she was eleven and spent her first terrifying and exhilarating summer at camp. She looks up at her dad, tears suddenly pressing hot behind her eyes.

"It took me awhile to find this after Rick told me about his plan. Your mom - she would be so proud of you. Of the woman you've become." Jim swallows thickly and holds the letter out to her. "She wrote this on the day you were born. I remember sitting in the room, holding this tiny bundle of pink in my arms, while she sat propped up against the pillows, smiling and scribbling away. She said there were just some things she couldn't wait to tell you."

Kate takes the letter with trembling fingers, a weak sob trapped somewhere deep inside her chest. "Have -" Her voice cracks and she stops, clears her throat, tries again. "Have you read it?"

"Not since that day. She put it away for you to have when you got older but it got lost through the years. I found it stuck in the bottom of that battered old trunk of hers." Jim smiles softly, memories flickering in his eyes. "She loved that ugly thing."

"She used to tell me that it was the one thing she'd save in a fire." Kate gives a watery laugh, her mother's voice a distant echo in her ears. "That I had legs and could get myself out."

Jim nods, a dry chuckle hanging in his chest. "She told me the same thing."

Turning the letter over in her hands, Kate plucks at the flap, tugging it open gently; it gives way easily, the decades old glue having lost its tack long ago. The paper is thin and yellowing, full from top to bottom with her mother's elegant cursive. Her heart throbs painfully, the aching need to see her mother, to hear her voice, swirling inside her chest.

"When I found it," Jim's voice filters through the haze of longing, "I asked Rick if he would be okay with me giving you your mother's words instead of his." He nods at the letter, the words catching in this throat. "He said he'd be honored. That he couldn't think of anything he'd love more than to include Johanna."

Kate flattens the letter against the table, holding it steady with the fingers of one hand. She lays her other hand on the table, palm up, and her dad places his over it, a solid presence anchoring her in the here and now. Sucking in a deep breath, she lowers her eyes and begins to read.

_My beautiful Katie,_

_I've only just met you but already I find myself madly in love with you. I've heard for years that being a parent changes a person, alters them at a fundamental level, but I never believed it. Not until the doctor put you on my chest less than twenty-four hours ago. I looked down at you, red faced and screaming, your little fists balled up tightly as you railed at the world, and I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would never be the same._

_There are so many things I want to say to you, my baby daughter, that I find it almost impossible to start. First, and most important I think, I want you to know that you are loved. Deeply and truly loved. You've come into a world that will sometimes do its best to convince you that you're not enough, that you should be more or better or different, but don't listen, my love. You are perfect exactly the way you are. Don't ever let anyone take that away from you._

_Since the moment I found out I was pregnant, I've wondered about you. About who you'll be. Will you be tall? Will you share my passion for art and music or your father's love of sports and language? Will you be a dreamer? A pianist? Will you have my nose and your father's sense of adventure? I think about these things constantly and am anxious to discover who you are, Katherine Beckett. But no matter what or who you turn out to be, whether you're an astronaut or a rock and roll singer, a doctor or a teacher, what I want most for you to be is happy. Everyone deserves happiness, Katie-bug, most especially you._

_I picture our life together, our little family, and my heart swells at the prospect of what's to come. I can't wait to introduce you to the wonders of our world. I want to take you to the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon and answer all your questions about why the sky is blue and the grass is green. I want to show you the beauty of art and science. I want to watch you grow up with faith in yourself and your abilities, secure in the knowledge that you can do anything you put your mind to. I want to sing along to silly songs in the car and teach you how to bake. I want to watch you go off to your first day of school and dance at your wedding. Your life is an open book, blank and crisp, just waiting to to be written. I can't wait to see how it unfolds._

_I have so many hopes for you. So many wishes and dreams. One of my most fervent desires, though, is that one day you find the kind of deep and abiding love I am fortunate enough to share with your father. Love is important. Love is what brought you into this world and love is what will sustain you. Give of your heart freely but not recklessly. I know it's a terrifying prospect; I've fought my own battles with the urge to run and hide, to protect myself from the potential pain. But trust me, sweetheart, when it's right, you'll know. When it's right, you'll want nothing more than to open yourself up to that person, to trade your heart for theirs. You'll still be scared but the love will far outweigh the fear. The most fulfilling things are the ones that scare us, my love. Trust your heart and you'll be fine._

_I love you, Katie, and I am honored to be your mother. I know I won't be perfect and neither will you. We'll fight and bicker, we'll slam doors and yell. But no matter what, your father and I will love you and you will always have a home here with us. _

_You are the best thing that ever happened in my life, darling. Remember that always._

_Love,_

_Mom_

Tears roll silently down her cheeks and she pushes them away with her free hand, trying to catch them all before they fall to the table and smudge her mother's beautiful words. A handkerchief floats into her eye line and she looks up, finds her dad looking at her with teary compassion.

"I miss her so much," Kate sniffs, blotting her face with the soft white cloth. "I want her to be here. I want to share this with her."

"I know." His fingers tighten around hers. "Me too."

"I wish she could know Rick. Could know that I found the kind of love she wanted for me."

"She would have loved him, you know," Jim assures her, his smile dispersing the chilly mist of sadness that has settled over her heart. "He'd have her wrapped around his little finger with all that charm."

"I'm pretty sure the charm thing would be mutual." Kate smiles, a chuckle rippling in her chest. "He really would have loved her."

"He already does." Off her look, Jim continues, "You are so much your mother's daughter, sweetheart. I look at you sometimes and wonder if there is _anything_ of me in there or if it's all Johanna."

Kate smiles. "Mom would say that I got your stubbornness."

"I'm sure she would," Jim chuckles lightly. "Though we'd all know that you got equal shares of that from both of us."

Extracting her hand from her father's, Kate carefully folds the letter from her mother and puts it in her bag with all the ones from Castle, her heart lightening as the emotions settle and balance. The excitement starts to creep back in, her blood humming in her veins.

"One last thing." Kate looks up sees her dad holding another envelope. She reaches out but he pulls it back, one eyebrow quirked. "He's a good man, Katie. When he came to ask for my permission to marry you, he promised me that he would do everything he could to never hurt you or break your heart." Jim catches her eyes, his gaze strong and stern. "Can you promise the same?"

"Are you seriously asking me, your own daughter, about my intentions?" She laughs, bright and loud.

"Yes, I am."

"Dad," she sighs, her heart climbing up into her throat, "I love him. I love him more than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone. He - He makes me who I am. Who I want to be. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to give him even a fraction of the happiness he gives me."

"Okay." Jim says, eyes shining. "Good enough."

He hands her the envelope and she opens it quickly, finds a single sheet of paper folded neatly in half. Flipping it open, she sees two sentences scrawled in the middle of the page.

_I love you. Come home._

She slides out of the booth with the letter still grasped tightly in her hand, her bag swinging heavily against her side. Her dad stands and pulls her into another hug, his arms warm and secure around her back.

"I'm happy for you, Katie."

"Thanks, Dad." She squeezes her arms around his neck, tries to say everything in five words. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Call me in the morning?"

"I will. I promise."

They break the hug and Jim steps back, tears shimmering in his eyes. "Go."

With a nod, Kate turns and walks outside, her feet barely scraping the sidewalk. She raises her hand and hails a cab, gives the driver their address. She needs to go back and get her car eventually but she can't focus on anything right now other than getting home. She wants to hold him and kiss him, thank him for being so amazing and for loving her. She wants to say yes and let him put a ring on her finger. She wants to spend the night wrapped up with him, their bodies pressed tightly together as they celebrate their love. Her hand shakes when she pulls out her phone and sends him one last text.

_On my way. I love you._


	11. Chapter 11

_Your feet will bring you to where your heart is._

_~ Irish Proverb_

Kate chews anxiously on her bottom lip and watches the red LED numbers flash on the wall, can feel her pulse spiking with each silent flicker. The bell chimes and she's out of the elevator as soon as the part between the sliding doors is wide enough to accommodate the width of her body; is halfway to their front door before she can even suck in a full breath.

She stops outside the loft, her fingers wrapped tightly around the door handle, the smooth metal cool against her palm. She knows what's on the other side and though she's been moving toward it all day she finds herself needing a moment to let it sink in. Castle is proposing to her. Tonight. Now. They've talked about marriage at length over the past few months, have been brutally honest with each other about their expectations and needs. She voiced her fears about his divorces and he explained his need to be certain before even considering marriage again. She's known this day was coming, has been anticipating it since she caught him looking at rings on the internet while he thought she was napping one rainy Saturday afternoon in March. But the reality - the knowledge that all that stands between her and marriage is a four inch thick slab of wood and metal - gives her a moment of pause. Makes her chest ache with so much love and want that she's certain her ribs will splinter from the pressure of keeping it all inside.

Castle is waiting for her. With a ring and more than likely a self-satisfied grin. Her heart flips as the image of his face floats through her mind and she pushes the key into the lock, letting out the breath she hadn't known she was holding as it slides home and the handle twists, the silver tongue slipping into its nest inside the door. Pulling herself up, she shoves the heavy door open and steps into the loft, finds -

Nothing.

The apartment is dark. Empty. She'd been expecting dim lighting, every available surface strewn with gently flickering candles and fragrant flowers, the soft strains of something romantic and jazzy floating on the air. She'd been expecting him to go completely overboard. Her keys and bag clatter to the side table as she steps further inside and closes the door, a streak of mild disappointment zipping through her chest. She doesn't need the romance. It's not in her nature, really. But it _is_ in his and she can't help but wonder -

Shaking off the doubts, she slips out of her heels and smooths her hands through her hair. There is nothing to wonder about. Nothing to fear. He's been planning this for months. He left a trail of his love for her across the city, recruited their friends and family to help guide her through their past and back to him.

He wants to marry her.

The clacking of keys catches her attention and she moves into the loft, drawn like a moth to the gentle yellow light spilling out of the open bookshelves that make up one wall of his office. Grinning, Kate slips across the living room, her breath quickening as she catches sight of him through the ajar door. He has his feet up on his desk, laptop sitting on his thighs, fingers feverishly flying across the keyboard. She smiles and wonders what he's working on, if he's typing out a final letter or writing this love story of theirs for the rest of the world to see. She always claimed she wasn't Nikki Heat but late one fall night, months after they started to date, she had quietly admitted that she _wanted_ to be; she wanted to be that version of herself, the one he had created. It fueled her, made her want to be more.

_He_ made her want to be more.

"Detective Beckett, are you ogling me from afar?"

She can't help the smile that blooms across her lips, fills her entire body with warmth. She steps into the room, lifting herself onto his desk. Her feet swing and she feels like a child, carefree and innocent and so exceptionally _happy_ that she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Don't flatter yourself, Castle."

She bites down on her lip and looks around the room. It's not that she doubts his proposal, but this isn't him. He's _loud._ He pulls ridiculous stunts like sending her across the city on a scavenger hunt; enlists random strangers to gang up on her during a paintball battle. He loves crazy gestures even if she -

Oh.

Castle sets the laptop down on the desk and rolls his chair closer to her. Her feet rest on his thighs and he runs his hands over her calves, light and teasing. "Thank you for going along with everything today. I know it's not you but -"

"I loved it," she interrupts. "It was - Castle, it was _amazing_."

"How long did it take you to figure out what this was really about?"

Kate lets out a laugh. "I'm a detective; how long do you think?" Castle smiles at her and it's overflowing with everything he's given to her in the past year of their relationship, the four years before that. She drags her fingers through his hair, tries to find the words that he's always managed to be so much better at. "Those letters. Castle, I - You are the most amazing man. You annoy the hell out of me sometimes-"

"Sometimes? Are you being generous because you know I'm proposing?"

The words fall from his lips so easily like it's nothing and everything at the same time and it's incredible to her how much she just _loves_ him. "No, I just forgot for thirty seconds how aggravating you can be. That's my mistake."

It's his turn to laugh, blue eyes sparking with love and joy as he stares up at her. "Glad I was able to bring you back to reality so quickly. Wouldn't want you agreeing to marry me while harboring any illusions about my ability to drive you crazy."

She swallows the sarcastic retort that bubbles up in her throat. The fact that her acceptance is a foregone conclusion for him makes her heart swell. It's taken them so many years, so much heartache, to get to this place and his trust in her is almost as awe inspiring as his love.

Her feet slide off his lap as he rolls the chair back and stands, his shirt and pants wrinkled from hours spent in front of the computer. Grabbing her hands in both of his, he tugs, tries to dislodge her from the desk. Kate shakes her head and tenses her arms, pulling him toward her; she wraps his arms around her waist before snaking her own around his and leaning forward to rest her head on his chest. His heart thunders under her ear, a counterpoint to her own syncopated rhythm. She holds him tightly, hands coasting over his back as she lets the delicious anticipation that has flooded her body all day slip away and settles herself in the moment. She wants to remember this, wants to be _present_.

"You okay?" His breath rustles over her crown, soft and warm, and she nods, her nose brushing against the worn cotton of his shirt.

"Yeah." She loosens her grip and leans back, smiling up at him; he sweeps a hand over the top of her head, his thumb lingering at her temple. "I'm good."

Kate lets him help her off the desk, his hands broad and warm on her waist, and lead her over to the overstuffed leather chairs in front of the bookcase. Castle aims her toward the chair nearest the window, the one he knows is her favorite. She loves to sink into the deep seat, her legs tossed over one arm, the light from the bay window spilling perfectly across her body, leaving her warm and comfortable. It's her favorite place to read and nap; to curl up and watch him while he works, his body swaying to some internal melody as he spins their life into bestselling fiction.

When she's seated, Castle moves to the opposite chair, pulling it around to face hers. His fingers tremble slightly as he reaches for her again, an airy laugh caught in his throat. "I'm nervous," he states, shaking his head. "Didn't expect that." Kate smiles at him reassuringly and tightens her fingers around his, her chest humming with emotion.

Sucking in a deep breath, he leans forward, forearms braced on his thighs, both hands clasped tightly around her left. "I sent you all over Manhattan today because I wanted you to remember each and every place I fell in love with you. There are times when I look back on everything and think it was the easiest, most natural thing that has ever happened."

She lets out a laugh; she doesn't mean to, but it bubbles up in her chest, nervous and overwhelmed and she rubs her thumb over his. "Easy?" she asks with a tilt of the head, the laughter turning into a full blown smile.

"You do know you're not supposed to interrupt the proposal, right?"

Kate holds up her free hand in surrender. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Then there are other times - most of the time - where I look back and realize that it was the hardest I ever worked for something. I think about it, try to imagine where I'd be if Harrison Tisdale used some other author to cover up his murders, if I had never met you, and I can't." She watches the blue of his eyes shimmer and pool with unshed tears, hears the hitch in his breath as he continues, paints a portrait of his love with words she ever wants to forget.

"I'm not the same man I was five years ago. I'd like to think that I'd have made it here on my own eventually but I honestly don't know. I spent my life indulging in romantic fantasies, searching for my other half but you -" He scoots forward on the chair, his body pressing forward with the weight of his words. "You opened my eyes, Kate. You made me realize that I wasn't missing half of anything; showed me that I was already capable of being the man that I wanted to be, all I had to do was be willing to work for it. You see me and love me for who I am and you make me want to be _more_."

Castle pauses, his eyes slipping closed. She gives him the moment, allows him to gather his thoughts in silence, her fingers twisting tightly around his.

"The truth is I could have written a thousand more letters and it would never be enough. For all the words I have, and we both know I have more than anyone could ever need," he chuckles and she leans into it, lets the sound of his laughter fill her up, "I don't think I will ever find the ones to tell you how grateful I am that you came into my life. How damned lucky I am that you love me. How much I -" He chokes to a stop, his hands clutching at her.

Tears slipping freely down her cheeks, Kate slides forward in her chair and reaches out, lays her fingers gently on his cheek. "I'm lucky too," she whispers around the knot of emotion lodged in her chest. "So very lucky."

His lips are warm and damp against hers, a fleeting caress. Kate keeps her eyes closed when he pulls back, her hand slipping from his cheek and a happy sound humming in her throat.

"Kate."

He's on his knees in front of her when she opens her eyes, a sparkling diamond grasped between his thumb and index finger. She chokes on a sob, her ribs aching with the frantic pounding of her heart. His eyes track her as she slides down to meet him on the floor. She doesn't want to be above him. Not for this. They're equals. Partners.

"Kate," he repeats, voice thick with tears. "I love you. Will you marry me?"

"Yes." It's instant, the answer pouring out of her lips without conscious thought. "Yes."

Castle slides the ring on her finger, the cut of the diamond catching the light. The stone is moderately flawed yet somehow incredibly flawless and she knows there's meaning behind this. Tonight - when it's quiet and dark, nothing left in the world but them wrapped up together in their bed - she'll ask him about it and he'll continue to spin their story, the whirlwind of events that have led them here.

She can feel the band around her finger, the residual warmth from his skin radiating out of the metal and seeping into hers. She'll have to tease him later about how many times he's taken it out today, stared at it and hoped that it was right. But for now she leans forward, touches her lips to his, foreheads pressed together.

"Did you bring my lucky pen from Remy's?"

The question is unexpected and Kate laughs, happiness pouring freely from her lungs. She leans back against the chair, the ring catching in her peripheral vision. "I think you already got lucky," she answers, wiggling the fingers of her left hand.

"You forgot, didn't you?" He sighs with mock annoyance, shaking his head. "I write you all these letters, Beckett, and you forget my pen. I guess you're going to have to make it up to me."

"I just agreed to marry you. Huge sacrifice on my part."

"Please," he huffs, pulling her into his lap, arms wrapping tightly around her waist, "we both know you've been dreaming about this moment since the day we met."

"You wish." She leans her head against his shoulder, her lips brushing softly over his neck. "Thank you for this. For today. It was perfect."

"Well, it was no midfield during game seven of the World Series but I think it'll be a sufficiently romantic story."

Kate smiles. "Big and intimate."

"I know what you like," he says, lips pressed against her forehead. "And speaking of," his hand runs up her back, fingers warm and strong, "how about we move on to the intimate portion of things. I've been thinking all day about seeing you wearing nothing but this," he runs a thumb over the ring sparkling on her left hand, "and a smile."

Laughing, Kate unfolds herself and stands in front of him. Her heart still beats wildly in her chest, elation swirling like wildfire through her veins. Castle stares up at her, a wide grin stretched across his face and she holds her hands out for him. "I hope you're prepared for this, Castle. I hear engagement sex can be pretty spectacular."

He grips her hands and stands, pulling her up against his chest, love and desire swimming in his eyes.

"Kate," he whispers against her ear and she shivers, her body melting into him, "you have _no_ idea."

* * *

_fin_


End file.
